Cadence
by Aqua Lion
Summary: Sooner or later, even Pidge has to stop overthinking things. If Larmina has anything to say about it, it'll be sooner... Harmonics part 5.


**Cadence**

_Because Pidge and Larmina would've been very upset with me if I didn't write this. And this really _is_ the last part of Harmonics, because I'm out of titles. (This is called pragmatism)  
__Sequel to Impedance, takes place after Roots of Evil. There are perspective swaps again._

* * *

What in the _world_.

How come every time I think I've got love slightly figured out, something new has to pop up and prove me wrong?

Tammy's mad at me now. Something about having "that adorable speed demon" in the castle for the last six months and not telling her about it. How was I supposed to know? I can't even keep my own romantic issues straight, you can't seriously expect me to play matchmaker!

At least now I know exactly why Daniel apologized to me.

Probably best if I not drop death threats on him just yet on the matter, but I _will_ be keeping an eye on this once Tammy goes back to speaking to me. If he so much as makes one wrong move around her I may yet kill him...

Wow. I did not realize I could sound that much like Allura.

Honestly? I don't think there's anything to worry about, they're perfect for each other. And it's better for everyone this way... I'm not saying that just to be selfish.

Though I _am_ selfish.

But I don't think Daniel has any idea what he'd be getting into if things had gone the way he hoped for with Larmina. He'd have bruises on body parts he doesn't know he has.

Speaking of which...

The door to my room slides open as I'm finishing up a report. No need to look up—there are only two people who come in without knocking, and Hunk's always talking before he's even through the doorway. Besides, I can feel her eyes on me... searching. Anticipating.

Fair enough. I suppose I have some time...

It's still a little disconcerting to see Larmina in blue. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I mean, it's a perfectly good color. Just, that's _Allura's_ uniform. It's strange. I'm too used to that cadet uniform she modified past the point of no return, and it was so much more... her. More fighter than pilot, and if anyone knows her as a fighter? Yeah. That'd be me.

One of these days I'm going to threaten to tear her sleeves off myself if she doesn't get to it, but this is probably not the time. She's having some trouble adjusting too.

As the computer beeps a confirmation, she makes a great show of yawning. "About time."

"Is waiting thirty seconds really that boring?"

"Terribly boring."

Of course it is. I should've stalled longer, now that I think of it... the longer she has to wait, the more fierce she becomes, and there's certainly no way to go wrong _there_. "You'll get over it. Don't yawn at me."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, _that's_ not what I was yawning about. I barely slept at all last night, stupid space mice were up to something in the floorboards."

I'd rather not hear about space mice. "You know, there is no shortage of caffeine in this castle."

"Whatever. Why don't _you_ wake me up, hmm?" She pounces before I have time to respond, pinning me to the floor, pushing my head back and clamping her teeth down on the base of my throat until lightning seems to arc over my skin.

I love when she surprises me... because I hate surprises.

She's going to pay for that.

"Oh, you'd better be awake already." She's good—it takes a couple of tries to slip out from her hold, though in the end she would have let me go if I couldn't fight my own way free. But that would be embarrassing. So much more satisfying to escape, to turn the tables... to drive her to the ground, feeling her pulse racing across my body, knowing she trusts me enough that her struggles are pleasure rather than fear. "Otherwise you won't put up much of a fight."

"Hmph. Don't be silly." She grins wickedly, digging her fingers into my ribs. "I kick more butt in my sleep than most people do when they're awake."

Sounds like a challenge to me... and I'd be so happy to take it, but something's off, something more than the new color. Doesn't smell right.

That's actually not metaphorical.

"So, Larmina..." I run my fingers over her lips, drawing in her scent more deeply, confirming what I already know. "What's _this_ nonsense supposed to be, hmm?"

Smirk. "It's called watermelon. I ran out of raspberry, someone ate it all."

...Oh. Well. "That was awfully silly of someone, then."

"You only love me for my lip gloss, don't you?"

"I probably deserved that, but no. It actually tastes a lot better when it's on you."

One of those fiery eyebrows raises, just slightly. "Does it? As opposed to what, exactly? You sound like you're speaking from experience."

Very insightful. "Maybe I am."

"Start talking."

No, I don't think so. I'm not giving that up without a fight. But that's the general idea, isn't it? I will tell her everything, for the right price. "How about you beat it out of me?"

She grins. Of course she grins. No way would she ever pass up an invitation like that... and I love her so much for it.

"With pleasure."

* * *

_What's bothering you?_

_Nothing._

_Pidge, you don't actually think you're fooling me. Right?_

_I guess not. I just still can't help thinking... I'm a horrible person._

_That's the dumbest thing I've heard in awhile. You are not._

_How else should I take it? I hurt you... I _enjoy_ hurting you!_

_Yeah, yeah. You hurt me, I hurt you back, we both like all of it._

_Well... yes, but..._

_And that completely outweighs saving the universe on a regular basis._

_...Point taken._

* * *

His bed's way too big for him. I've made plenty of suggestive comments about that before, but sometimes there doesn't need to be any subtext involved at all. It's enough to just lie beside him, soaking up his presence while the adrenaline fades.

What's this nonsense, he says. Heh. Should've strung him along, really. A new flavor to go with a new color? Not that the watermelon really seemed to bother him at all—maybe I should switch things up more often. Keep him on his toes. Keep things interesting, as if they can be anything _but_ interesting where we're involved.

Next time, _blue_ raspberry.

Shifting next to me. "Hey, Larmina..." He sounds tentative. The mask is off, the predator is gone. It's just Pidge now... sweet and gentle and so very, very tentative. And I love him for that, too.

"What's up?"

For another moment he hesitates, then seems to gather his nerve. "What do I taste like?"

...There's no way in hell I can avoid bursting into laughter. From what he said, sure, but even more from the way he said it. So matter-of-factly. Like I couldn't tell from the lead-in he was pretty much terrified to ask, probably because he knew I was going to laugh like that. But I guess it's not that bad a question. How should _he_ know?

Still, it's not so easy...

"You know what would help me answer that?"

"What?"

Genius he may be, but he still never sees these things coming, and he gives a slight gasp of surprise when I pull his head down and slip my tongue between his lips. Savoring that spicy tang that's so familiar, so easy to place but so hard to explain... the answer is so clear but the context is all wrong. So to put it off I keep scouring his mouth until we have to come up for air.

...Okay, so I say that like either of us would have it any other way.

If I didn't know better, I'd say he looks a little upset when I pull back. "Hard to remember, huh?"

Oh. Not what I was going for. "No, I just wanted an excuse to do that."

"Since when do you need an excuse?" He laughs and the worry on his face vanishes in an instant. "I mean, you've never had trouble finding an excuse before... it's daylight, it's not daylight, you're within ten feet of me, it's a day ending in 'y'..." Right before I can get around to punching him, he shuts up and looks serious again. "So, you going to answer me or what?"

"You're going to think the answer is silly."

"And? As much as you make fun of me about the lip gloss thing..."

"Use the correct words, Pidge. It's not a _thing_, it's a _fetish_, and it's hysterical. Of course I'm gonna make fun of you about it." He glares and swats my shoulder. "Okay, okay. But you're kind of going to have to bear with me because I'm serious, it's weird."

He shifts a little, and runs a hand down the side of my face. "I'm pretty sure _weird_ is the least of our concerns."

Probably true. "You taste like pine needles."

I did tell him it was weird, he doesn't have to look at me like I'm some sort of alien. ...Well, I guess if we want to get technical... oh, forget that. "How many pine needles have you eaten in your life, exactly? That's incredibly unhealthy."

Sigh. I swat him back because he pretty much outright asked for it. "Do you realize how hard this is to describe, Pidge? It's like... when you go for a walk in the forest, and the wind's all around you, and everything's so fresh and alive and you can smell it so strongly you can taste it... does that make any sense?"

"Perfect sense," he murmurs, and kisses me again.

* * *

_You wouldn't even like this if I didn't like it, you know._

_What?_

_It's true. I even looked it up. Usually has to be, uh, what was the word... mutual? Consensual._

_...Usually._

_You get off on killing Drules?_

_What? Of course not!_

_See? It's settled, then._

_Hardly settled, it's not that easy, it can't be that easy—_

—_Pidge._

_...Yes?_

_Shut up and kiss me._

* * *

It's amazing how patient someone can be about being impatient.

Follow that? Good, explain it to me.

Larmina's pushing, as she should. When I try to move back into the shelter of the shadows, she's there—the light that won't abide such uncertainty. Such _delusions_. There's no going back. And I don't want to go back, I'm just afraid to go forward!

So she pushes harder. Never arguing, never spelling it out... just being there. Being herself. And making me crazy. What are you up to, Larmina? Reminding me you're not a cadet anymore, that one of my last excuses is shattered? Making me see how I'm still stringing you along? Forcing me to focus on how much I want you—scolding me for not giving in?

Stop being so paranoid, Pidge. It's just how she is.

I want to move on with this as much as she does. But I always hesitate. I hold back precisely because I want her so badly... it can't be right, can it? When every cell in my body is screaming with desire, can I still promise that the driving force is my heart?

Perhaps I'm asking too much...

It's a rare moment right now; I don't have anything to _do_. For some reason, when your job description is defending the universe, you don't get many off days. Go figure.

There's a panel in my bedroom that's not supposed to be a door, but leads to a small side room nonetheless. Call it creative license. What good is being an engineer, and the chief engineer's best friend, if I can't even sneak an extra room in? Perhaps the proper word is studio, maybe workshop... no. This is my sanctuary.

In this place, there's only me and the music.

I can't tell you where it began. Was it the moment we stepped onto Arus? From that moment... long before I even set foot in Green Lion's den, I knew the winds.

Perfectly.

Over time, I came to interpret that knowledge into something else. Sound and beauty. But it's not something I learned, it's just something I _do_. There are moments when this thing inside me flares up, roaring and demanding release. And things happen. My body moves, the winds whisper around me, and the music comes into being. I'm not an artist... I'm merely an avatar.

Most likely it's not healthy, really.

Stereolactic? DJ Prong? Whatever. False names, pure lies. The truth is here, in this nearly lightless sanctuary. The darkness at the deepest heart of the forest, where there's nothing but shadows and the howl of the windsong.

What if I draw this out? Because we're all like this. Our bonds with the lions _mean_ something, and it goes much deeper than just who's permitted to fly them and who sets off security protocols. We become like them... their presence echoes within us in ways it's impossible to describe. And in certain moments, I don't just hear the wind. I _am_ the wind.

So then. Larmina?

She's the Blue Lion now, bound to the water... yes. It's so clear, so _obvious_. The water ripples under the wind's touch, going from stillness to raging waves in an instant. And when a cyclone touches the ocean, wind and water become one—violent and deadly, yet beautiful.

Maybe that's us.

Of _course_ that's us.

The wind fears nothing. It moves where it will, and all before it bends or breaks. It takes its place in the cycle without doubt. I should probably learn from that... something to think on later, maybe.

For now? The windsong is calling.

So I let go.

* * *

_What were you thinking about when you wrote it?_

_You._

_Aww, that's so sweet._

_I believe the human response to that would be 'bite me'._

_Ooh. Really?_

_...You know, somehow, I did not see that coming._

_Like hell you didn't._

_Okay, maybe a little._

_So? Can I?_

_Larmina, if you're gonna bite me..._

_Yes?_

_Don't ask permission. It's not as much fun._

* * *

Class is pretty much boring. It's a little more interesting when Pidge is teaching, mostly because I have to convince myself not to tackle him in the middle of the lesson—it's not that I have restraint problems. Of course not. I just think it would be funny to see the look on Daniel's face. Vince would probably be in a fetal position for a week, though.

I'm not that mean, not really. Bad enough I still have to be in class with them, catching their jealous looks. I'm not a cadet anymore... but I still have things to learn. And you know? I'm willing to accept that.

Only problem is, what _I_ think I have to learn doesn't quite mesh with what my aunt thinks I have to learn. Big surprise.

By the time she sets us free it's some kind of wonder I'm still awake. Tact and diplomacy and custom, ugh. None of this _matters_, does it? Why should life have to center on how other people see you?

All that should matter is how you see yourself...

Not that even _that's_ always easy. Case in point, the person I'm going to see now.

We never really plan these things. Planning is for nice, calm, normal relationships. Better for us to just show up, take our chances. Still... when I get into his room and he's not there, it's disappointing, since it probably means he's down in the hangar doing work. Can't very well pounce on him when he's working, can I?

We _do_ have our limits. We know what we're doing.

Though there is one other possibility... pushing open the panel to his studio/sanctum/whatever pays off. He's there, sweeping over the room like a cyclone, weaving sound and rhythm together in ways no one in this galaxy can match.

I know how to deal with this.

Be silent. Don't disturb him. Don't disrupt the flow, though it seems almost like madness. I know he doesn't realize I'm here, and it would be so easy to break him from his trance. But I don't _want_ to. Some of that is selfish, because what's happening in this moment will be Stereolactic's newest masterpiece later. Because he's so beautiful, whirling through the shadows like a ghost. But...

He needs this. And I would never take it from him.

It shouldn't be such a surprise, should it? No. I've watched long enough. He throws himself into everything this way—whether it's going days at a time without sleep trying to solve the mysteries of the Nexus, slamming me to the floor with all his predator's grace, or just charging into battle without fear.

Finally he stops, dropping to his knees and drawing long, shallow breaths as the spell he was under fades. Slowly, so slowly, returning to the real world.

"Pidge?"

"Hey, Larmina." He sounds a little dazed. "How long have you been there?"

"Awhile."

No response, though the silence might be a response. He's so clearly drained, kneeling on the floor, breathing shallowly as if to keep himself under control. So drained... so vulnerable... so easy. I shouldn't take the opening, I really shouldn't. We have an unspoken agreement that this room is off limits for our usual fun and games. But...

He's in no shape to fight. And suddenly I want _that_.

"Pidge?"

"Sorry. I'm... tired."

"I know." And I pounce.

He yelps, and I can't help feeling guilty, but I'm not backing down. No way. Not this time. I'm taking this opening, because it's there, because... he's _mine_. No matter how hesitant he gets, I can never let him doubt that.

I can never let him forget it!

"No, Pidge." The words cut off his attempts to squirm free of my hold, which is just as well; he wasn't having much luck. Exhausted. "I don't want you to fight, I just..."

I just what?

All this time I've been trying so hard not to push. To be patient, let him work things out on his own time. But... no. He _needs_ that last push. I know that now.

"I don't want you to fight." Softer this time. "I just want... you."

He stares back at me, green eyes nearly glowing in the dimness. Something glittering there, almost wavering—staring into me, staring _through_ me, and I can see the light flicker on behind that gaze. A realization of some sort.

Before I can ask what it means, he yanks my head down. "Soon." And kisses me more deeply than ever.

...I think he might mean it this time.

* * *

_So, I did some research._

_You? Research? Surely not._

_Hey, listen before you make fun of me, you should like this._

_Oh really?_

_Yeah. Turns out Baltans and Arusians are on completely different chromosome systems._

_Sounds dreadfully boring. English?_

_We're not genetically compatible at all._

_Mmmhmm... and what brought this research on?_

_Oh, you know, just wondering. Logistics... possibilities... Allura not killing us..._

_Right. Why do I feel like this isn't an abstract discussion?_

_Because it's not. Does that mean I don't have to say it?_

_No. Say it, Pidge._

_I'm ready._

* * *

I'm not here to tell you the mechanics of sex. You can look that stuff up.

Maybe one of _us_ should've looked it up. I mean, we figured it out sooner or later...

Anyway, moving on.

She drifted away awhile ago, and I'm not quite sure what to make of that. Is exhaustion normal, is that something that changes with practice? No idea. But I know I _can't_ sleep. Not with this feeling fluttering in my chest—something inexplicably light, a serenity that isn't all that much about sex at all, to be honest.

The final step is taken. The fear is gone.

Even if I could sleep, I wouldn't. Better to watch her, to not surrender this night to sleep, to let the moment last forever...

Larmina's eyes flicker open, just barely, slivers of aquamarine that glint in the moonlight streaming through the window. "Pnnj? Yuwuuhk?"

If my internal sleep-to-English dictionary is working correctly, she just asked me if I'm awake. "Yeah. You're not, though."

"Emtu."

Hmm. "If you say so. What's up?"

"Nnekttum... murpin."

My dictionary just short-circuited. "I think we should save such sophisticated conversations for morning."

She kicks me under the covers and fights for coherence. "Next time... more pain."

Oh. That... uh. Yeah.

That does sound attractive.

I still don't understand her. I still don't understand _me_. But I don't think it matters anymore, because nobody understands love, not really. And maybe... maybe I'm starting to accept that I'm not going to be the first.

All we have to figure out is what keeps us happy.

"Tell you what." I lean closer to her, blocking the moonlight for a moment, stroking her cheek. "We'll leave it up to you from now on. You fight, I'll fight back. That work for you?"

"You don't know... what you're getting... into."

"I'm looking forward to finding out. Now go back to sleep."

She's pretty much gone before I even finish the sentence. But I draw her closer because I can, because I love her, because I want her as near to me as possible and the hell with trying to understand it.

Larmina...

She seems so _delicate_ like this, her hair frosted by moonbeams, snuggling close against my chest and murmuring something that defies translation. Of course she's not delicate. Who else would be strong enough, patient enough, to guide me through the minefield I built around myself without knowing it? I probably don't deserve her. But I refuse to feel guilty about that, either.

There's no denial anymore.

We are what we are. And maybe we're not... normal. But we can be as gentle as we are brutal, as playful as we are fierce, it just depends on the moment.

All that ever matters is the moment.

"I love you, Larmina."

"Aluuvtu, Pnnj."

* * *

_No fighting this time._

_Oh, come on. You said you were ready, let's rock this thing._

_It isn't about not being ready, honest._

_It's not?_

_No, it's just... do you know anything about sex beyond 'insert person A into person B?'_

_...Now that you mention it, not really._

_Yeah, me either. So fighting might be an unnecessary complication the first time out._

_Unnecessary complication? You're getting all logistical about _sex_, Pidge._

_You know you love it._

_I know I love you._

* * *

It's so warm...

Consciousness comes back slowly. So slowly. The first thing I'm aware of is the warmth. There's an instant of confusion, because the castle's air conditioning is _way_ overaggressive and I've been freezing at night for the last week, and waking up feeling warm just seems strange. Especially with the vague not-quite-coherent sense that I'm not wearing clothes and that's not very normal either.

Too sleepy to make sense of this.

The second thing I'm truly aware of is the pressure, my cheek pressed up against something smooth and warm, something that smells of a metallic tang and a hint of pine needles... oh.

_Oh_.

Everything comes flooding back and it's all I can do not to cry out. Again. It might be a little awkward right now. That stuff belongs in the heat of the moment, not waking up hours later just because the memory is so vivid it aches...

I really just want to bury my face deeper in Pidge's chest and go back to sleep, but it seems like such a waste to let this moment slip away... wait. His chest? How'd that happen? I'm taller than him. Which is where the third realization finally comes into play, that I'm curled up and bent over at the worst angle it's possible to sleep at.

Straightening up is going to hurt, and _not_ the kind of hurt I like. To put it off I decide to see if Pidge is awake yet. Not by looking up. No no no, that'd be too easy. Better idea.

He jerks back with a yelp when my tongue touches his skin. _"Larmina!"_ Yep, he's awake. "What're you doing?"

"Licking you."

"Why?"

"Because you taste good." Not untrue, though the real answer would have been _why not?_ I just didn't think that would embarrass him enough.

He groans, that patented Pidge groan where you know he thinks he's the only sane person on the team, maybe the only sane person in the galaxy. It's a sound I've heard so many times, a sound I find oddly attractive. Maybe because it's so _him_.

So I lick him again.

"You know, if this is where this is going..." He pulls back, sitting up, reaching over to the desk next to the bed and picking up something small and pale and... wait, is that...?

I don't believe it. He's got my lip gloss. "How did you come up with that?"

"Swiped it while you were undressing."

Oh for crying out... "Without me noticing!"

"I'm so much more ninja than you, Larmina. So much." He flips the tube in his fingers, running his tongue lightly over his lips. "Why don't you straighten up so I can decide where to lick you back, hmm?"

How can I possibly argue with that?

Unfortunately, my back has a few words to say about it. Actually just the word 'ow' repeated several times in rapid succession as pain goes lancing up my spine. I was so excited I completely forgot that little detail.

"Ah, damn, that wasn't smart..." Another surge of flame across my shoulders. "Oh, _fuck_. ...Don't tell my aunt I said that."

"Of course not," Pidge murmurs lazily, raising an eyebrow. "But I think you're a little late, we already covered that part."

Huh? ...Oh. "Oh, shut up."

It amuses him when I tell him to shut up. It rarely accomplishes anything else. "You need some help?"

"Please."

"Turn around." I can feel him wince as his fingers run along my back, massaging my poor abused muscles. "Wow. You're hard as a rock."

There is only one possible response to that. "That's what she said."

He stops. "Um... Larmina. _You're_... she... oh... forget it."

"If I forget it I'll have to say it again." There's a brief surge of pain—glorious, beautiful, not-crampy-at-all pain—as he scythes his nails across my back as a response. "You know that only makes me want to annoy you more, right?"

Sigh. He goes back to the massage. "You are incorrigible."

"And you're the only person in the quadrant who would ever use the word _incorrigible_ in bed, but I love you anyway."

Laughter. Soft, but not that cold laughter that sends shivers of anticipation up my spine. Just a low, comfortable laugh... and it's that comfort that strikes me. The edge he's always carried about us is gone, vanished into the night.

"So... Pidge?"

"Yes?"

"We're going to do this again, right?"

He pauses again. Then pulls me back, wrapping his arms across my chest, settling his chin on my shoulder—and when his breath brushes up against my neck, that burning itch sparks inside me all over again. "As often as you want."

Oh boy. "Heh. You have no idea what you're getting into."

Grin. "I'm looking forward to finding out."

I'm sure you are, Pidge. I'm sure you are.


End file.
